RICHARD JEFFERIES

Many labourers can trace their descent from farmers or well-to-do people, and it is not uncommon to find here and there a man who believes that he is entitled to a large property in Chancery, or elsewhere, as the heir.

The workman in the true sense of the word - the artist in guns - is either extinct, or hidden in an obscure corner. There is no individuality about modern guns. One is exactly like another.

It is injurious to the mind as well as to the body to be always in one place and always surrounded by the same circumstances.

I believe in the human form; let me find something, some method, by which that form may achieve the utmost beauty.

To the soul, there is no past and no future; all is, and will be ever, in now. For artificial purposes time is mutually agreed on, but there is really no such thing.

It is easier to speak to those who have had similar experiences than to those who are as yet ignorant.

To the darkness and the night, the spirits seem to have a natural claim - it is their realm; the boldest of us have sometimes felt an unaccountable creeping in the thick darkness.

Grief falls upon human beings as the rain, not selecting good or evil, visiting the innocent, condemning those who have done no wrong.

Beauty - what is beauty, forsooth? Form and color; that is, surface only. Fortune - what is fortune? Nothing is ever a pleasure or a real profit to him who has to labour for it. Truth - you die in the pursuit, and the sea beats the beach as it did a thousand years ago. The stolid are alone happy.

I desire a greatness of soul, an irradiance of mind, a deeper insight, a broader hope.

The heart looks into space to be away from earth.

The labourer's muscle is that of a cart-horse, his motions lumbering and slow.

An inspiration - a long, deep breath of the pure air of thought - could alone give health to the heart.

The impression left after watching the motions of birds is that of extreme mobility - a life of perpetual impulse checked only by fear.

Ever since the world began, it has been the belief of mankind that desolate places are the special haunt of supernatural beings.

Do you always do as you would like to do were it in your power? I find that circumstances force me often to act in a manner quite opposite to what I should prefer; I am, of course, judged by my acts, but do they really afford a true key to my character? I think not.

When even the most strictly logical mind looks round and investigates the phenomena attending its own existence, perhaps the first fact to attract attention by its strongly marked prominence is the remarkable loneliness of man. He stands alone.

If every plant and flower were found in all places, the charm of locality would not exist. Everything varies, and that gives the interest.

That I may have the soul-life, the soul-nature, let divine beauty bring to me divine soul.

A man, to read, must read alone. He may make extracts, he may work at books in company; but to read, to absorb, he must be solitary.

It is quite true that women like courage, and that boldness often goes a long way; but it is questionable whether with high-bred natures a subdued, quiet, and delicate manner does not go still further.

Now is eternity; now is the immortal life.

The heart has a yearning for the unknown, a longing to penetrate the deep shadow and the winding glade, where, as it seems, no human foot has been.

The 'crownd' is still the unit, the favourite coin of the labourers, especially the elder folk. They use the word something in the same sense as the dollar, and look with regret upon the gradual disappearance of the broad silver disc with the figure of 'St. Gaarge' conquering the dragon.

No tyrant, however evil, has yet lacked ready hands to execute his most abominable will. To read how eagerly men have rushed to serve the despot is the bitterest, the saddest matter of history; it is the saddest sight in our own day.